(Apologies to Hootie & the Blowfish.) One of the ways the pent up emotion of a horrific tragedy, numbing uncertainty, blind hope, and joyous yet guarded relief of the past month can be released is in sharing a good cry over how good the hospital cafeteria catfish is. My brother, my sister, my SIL and me -- passing 'round the tissues and sobbing over the catfish yesterday. It turns out that, while I am the eldest sibling and definitely "the boss," I am not the one that our brother fears most. The one who makes him tremble in his boots happens to be the most mild-mannered, least confrontational of us all! Apparently, she once took him to task and pushed his back against the wall to tell him what-for and, while neither of them can recall when or where or even what it was all about, it obviously made an indelible impression (the expression on his face when he described it said everything). She struck such fear into him that when our parting words to Michael on Saturday were that this sister would be visiting on Sunday, he had another horrible night's sleep, worrying over her visit and fearing that she'd yell at him again. Even though he knew it was silly and irrational and that he didn't do anything to warrant being yelled at, the dreadful feeling just didn't go away. He could laugh about it with everyone yesterday, but it was truly a huge relief when she finally came and didn't yell at him that when the conversation turned to catfish and how good it was -- we all had and enjoyed it weeks ago when Mike was still in ICU, but he'd just had it the day before -- his relief at not being yelled at, combined with his renewed appreciation for the little things (like catfish) and tender, humble emotions that have been pretty much laid bare, well, we all got caught up and the tears just started to flow.

I formatted the relevant blog posts down to fewer than 70 pages and printed them out for my SIL. I gave them to her on Saturday afternoon with an explanation of what a blog is, who bloggers are, and a heads-up about the blue blogger blanket that Michael will be receiving, and she took it home to read it that night. She was so moved that Sammy, their black lab, became concerned. She would like to tell you all: "THANK YOU," with more tears in her eyes, "...just 'Thank you'." (During the catfish incident, I turned to her and said, "You don't even bother putting makeup on in the morning anymore, do you?" It's true.) My brother isn't yet ready to know the details of the accident -- he said that he wants to wait until the pain is gone -- but I think it will help him, too, especially wrapped up in the blue blanket of love while he reads. Have you seen all the gorgeous blue squares??? Christine is amazing.

I finished a Trellis sleeve over the weekend and started on the second -- I love that little two-stitch TBL magic on either side of the central motif that makes a nice mock cable! So simple and so fun!

A good cry is so nice sometimes. Especially when there's so much to be relieved about. I agree that Michael should wait to know what happened - he'll have the rest of his life to know about it and every day reminders I'm sure. Ignorance is, well, not really blissful. Maybe a relief right now?